


As Above, So Below

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Spanking, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 05:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye have a very different relationship in private than their public interactions around Central Command would suggest. For example, despite being her commanding officer in the streets, Brigadier General Mustang loves getting the strap in the sheets, exclusively from First Lieutenant Hawkeye.Requested by xandrei on Twitter





	As Above, So Below

He was so groggy when he blinked his eyes open, so disoriented, it almost felt as if he’d woken up on the moon. He registered Hawkeye standing to his left, poking him indelicately in the cheek with the back end of a fountain pen. Then, a deep-voiced cough alerted him to the presence of Armstrong. Slowly, the rheum of sleep cleared, and the finer details of his office came into focus. Armstrong, standing at attention before the closed door, the stack of papers on his desk slumped across its surface, Hawkeye’s unimpressed expression, a cup of tea unfinished and gone cold. 

“If you keep interrupting my beauty rest, I’ll get wrinkles, you know. Start to look like Bradley. Perhaps I should grow a mustache?” he joked, causing Armstrong to snort, ruffling his own immaculately manicured handlebar. 

“Major Armstrong has returned from Xing with a new volume on Alkahestry, Brigadier General. I believe your orders were to present these findings immediately upon his arrival in Central?” Hawkeye stated, a sharp reprimand audible under her patented military calm. Armstrong looked visibly uncomfortable, though Roy wasn’t sure if this was because he’d seen his commanding officer looking too vulnerable in his sleep, or because he’d been forced between Brigadier General Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye, the reason for a barely-concealed chastisement. Either way, Roy ignored it, held out his hand for the proffered volume. 

“It’s nice to have friends in high places,” Roy remarked, noting the short letter bearing Emperor Yao’s stamp enclosed beneath the book’s front cover. “Sure makes it easier to conduct research, compared with all the sneaking around we used to do. Have you read it, Armstrong?”

“Mm,” Armstrong confirmed, nodding solemnly. “Until you get that rail link between Xing and Ishval completed, it’s still a long journey from there to here. Plenty of time for light reading. Some interesting stuff about the accumulation of energy within the body as it develops via exposure to the ‘Dragon’s Pulse’, related to the cultivation of vigor and vitality.” Here, Armstrong flexed, and Roy could hear the sleeve of his uniform creaking in protest. “I’ve bookmarked it for you.”

Sure enough, close to the back of the book, a sheet of notebook paper protruded. It was of the sort Roy recognized as the paper Armstrong preferred for drawing. It was also one or two hundred pages into the thick tome, making Roy wonder about Armstrong’s definition of ‘light reading’, but then he hardly thought the Strongarm Alchemist would ever describe anything as ‘heavy’. 

“Very good, Major. Dismissed.” 

Armstrong had to duck under the doorframe, but once the door was shut behind him, Roy leaned back in his chair, attempting to get comfortable. Hawkeye cleared her throat beside him. 

“Don’t doze off again, Sir,” she chided. “You’ve got a two o’clock with Halifax from Internal Affairs, and then a scheduled call with Shrike in East City command regarding the Ishval reconstruction project. Not to mention all these expense reports you seem to have drooled on.” 

Roy grunted, asking himself internally why Hawkeye had to be so damn good at her job. A knock on the door had them both looking up. Lieutenant Ross poked her head in, and Roy straightened up in his chair, realizing he wasn’t going to get another moment to relax for a while. 

Second Lieutenant Ross was probably due for a promotion, but that, for the moment, was above Roy’s pay grade. On the other hand, it would put her on par with Hawkeye, who was /also/ due a promotion, but if Hawkeye got promoted, she likely wouldn’t keep her assignment as his personal adjutant. And then where would he be? 

Ross saluted smartly, and waited for the order to speak. Roy sighed, and waved dismissively. 

“At ease, Lieutenant,” he said, leaning on one hand. “What have you got?” 

He’d assigned her to one of the more popular, public-facing positions within the rapidly-expanding Railroad Division, partially due to her pretty face and personable nature, and partially to help repair the damage to her public image following the false reports of her murder conviction. As a result, she was abominably busy, and her appearances at Central were few and far between, so he had to take her progress reports whenever she had time to give them. Her partner, Brosh, was on the same assignment, but seemingly lacked her constitution, since Roy had heard reports that Lieutenant Brosh could usually be found prone in one of the spare bunks at the barracks for some time after the pair returned from whatever far-flung destination they’d visited, talking up the railroad expansion. 

“We have encountered a large number of people who believe in preserving the ruins of Xerxes as an historical landmark, but also would be interested in a local rail stop, making visits to and exploration of the ruins easier and more affordable,” Ross said. She’d grown tanner, spending time out in the desert. It looked good on her. With her short hair and suntan, she reminded Roy a bit of Hawkeye, years ago, before she’d started growing her hair out. Her tenure as a sniper had given her a bit of a tan as well. 

“They want to turn it into a tourist trap?” Roy asked, eyes sliding to the filing cabinet. Before he could even ask, Hawkeye was there, pulling the very file he would have requested, and laying it open on his desk. It contained within it the Office of Research and Development’s treatise regarding the existing rail systems of Amestris, which had been circulated to all officers, and which, admittedly, he hadn’t read. Not past the table of contents, anyway. Somewhere within the cramped stacks of numbers and the incomprehensible spreadsheets there was a section on tourism. Helpfully, Hawkeye tapped a fingernail against the entry in the table of contents for ‘Rush Valley’.

Roy grinned at her and flipped to the relevant page. 

“Crime rates. Pollution. Population...” Roy’s gloved fingertip slid down the column of numbers. “Annual GDP, export/import, urbanization...” He glanced at Hawkeye again, and her expression was almost unchanged, but he could almost /feel/ her opinions, like a pressure at the back of his tongue. “I don’t know about that, Lieutenant Ross. Granted it’s not ultimately my decision to make, but something rubs me the wrong way about building a resort hotel on top of the place where over a million people were put to death by sacrifice. Even if most people aren’t aware of that history.” He could sense Hawkeye’s approval, read it in the slight shift of her posture. 

Ross looked at the Rush Valley spreadsheet from the other side of the desk, upside-down. “True. If I argue against the construction of a rail stop at the ruins of Xerxes in my report, I suppose I can merely say that it lacks the necessary infrastructure to support tourism, and that the significant cost associated with sanitation alone would be more than we could reliably bear.”

Roy chuckled softly. “You’re getting good at this, Ross. That’s a really good excuse.”

“To be frank, sir, I’ve spent months accompanying surveying teams through the desert. Creature comforts have been in rather short supply, and I don’t think most tourists would much welcome such close associations with latrine kits.” She grimaced. “Or scorpions, if you have to go in the night.” 

Hawkeye covered her laugh with a cough. When Ross looked at her, Hawkeye straightened. “Might I suggest you argue for making it an archaeological reserve, requiring special dispensation to visit?”

Ross pulled a notebook from her breast pocket to write that down, and Roy felt an inexplicable swelling of pride, even though he knew he had no right to feel that way about Hawkeye’s tactical suggestions. Still, he let himself look at her while Ross was looking at her notebook. Hawkeye’s face remained impassive, but she drew out her fountain pen, the same one she’d used to poke him awake, and rapped it three times against the Rush Valley tourism report, and he drummed his fingers twice on his desk in return. They understood each other. Ross finished her note taking with a flourish and tucked her notebook and pencil away, straightening up to salute. She hesitated by the door, though. 

“General... I didn’t mean to complain about my assignment before, sir. I truly believe it’s helped me undo the damage that was done, not just to my reputation but also to the reputation of the State Military. To be honest, it seems there are a lot of people who didn’t know what to believe, after I was exonerated.” She laughed a little sadly. “Give people a taste of conspiracy and it’s hard to make them believe the sky really is blue, after that.”

“What conspiracy?” Roy asked, behind a smile, “Everyone knows newspapers always have two editions at the ready for the outcome of major events like that. It was just that they prematurely distributed the one they’d prepared in case you were found guilty. That’s all.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the office of Internal Affairs. “Besides, once they test fired your weapon and found that the .45 caliber bullet that killed General Hughes did not match the rifling on your weapon, that was the prosecution’s key piece of evidence thrown out, right? A simpleton could see they had no grounds to convict.” 

Ross’s expressive face changed. She was not a good liar, it seemed, unable to hide her feelings. “Was... were you the one who put forward those facts in my defense, sir?” It was clear she felt she’d earned another debt in Roy’s favor. 

“No,” he assured her. “Actually it was First Lieutenant Hawkeye who requested your state-issued handgun be test fired. I believe she performed the test herself, in fact.” 

Hawkeye nodded once. “I’ve always said I like guns,” she said, by way of explanation. 

“There you have it,” Roy concluded easily.

Ross gave him a grim smile. “Right. Of course sir. But still, thank you. Thank you both.” She bowed to each of them in turn, dispensing with the usual salutes, and let herself out of the office. 

Roy rolled his shoulders. “What I wouldn’t give to have been a fly on the wall when she showed up at her parents’ house, markedly not burned to death. They must’ve had a conniption.”

He chuckled lightly, and Hawkeye huffed a short sound. “Your sense of humor needs work, sir.”

There were four desks facing each other in his office, just as there had been when he was a colonel. The only real difference was that his own desk was nicer, now. Without the need for the subterfuge he’d employed under Führer King Bradley, though, he preferred to keep those other desks empty. Technically one of them belonged to Hawkeye, but she rarely used it, preferring to stand close by him instead, looking over his shoulder, watching him like, well, a hawk. There was another knock on the door and Roy glanced at the clock. 

“That’ll be Halifax,” Roy noted, and after a moment, he was proven right when the man poked his nose into the office, and, at Roy’s beckoning, shuffled in. 

Captain Halifax from Internal Affairs was a somewhat rotund man whose small eyes were set in a round doughy face above a flat nose, with white-blond hair that stuck up on top of his head and gave him the overall appearance of a boiler onion. He seemed well-suited to the sedentary life provided by his office, and, Roy knew, was not a particularly good shot. He was not the sort of man one would expect to find in a military operation. Still, Roy liked him. That was why, whenever he had to have dealings with the Office of Internal Affairs, he preferred to work with Halifax. If the main reason Roy liked the man happened to be his proven track record for making Hawkeye laugh, nobody had to know it. 

“So what’s this about?” Roy asked, as the captain pulled a chair from one of the empty desks and sank into it. This was on the smallest technicality against protocol, as Roy was a higher-ranking officer and hadn’t given the ‘at ease’ order, but being that Halifax was from the office responsible for investigating misconduct, it seemed pointless to bring attention to the fact. Halifax pretended to ignore him in favor of passing a sheaf of documents to Hawkeye. 

“Sorry to burden you with more work, Lieutenant, but I know you’re the real brains behind this operation.” 

Hawkeye laughed through her nose, and opened the manila folder. Her face pinched as soon as she’d read the first page.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Roy urged, reaching for the folder, but Hawkeye, surprisingly, kept it out of his reach. 

“You mustn’t look, Brigadier General,” she said, and Halifax grinned. Ah, so they were going to joke at his expense. The issue must not have been that important, then. 

“Good thinking, Lieutenant. Has your grandfather earmarked you to become the next Führer yet?”

At that, Hawkeye stifled a giggle behind the folder. 

“That was supposed to be a secret, Captain. I didn’t want to make General Mustang jealous.” Her honey brown eyes gleamed when Roy looked at her, and his heart pounded. 

“Is that what’s in the folder? Notes on Führer Grumman’s nepotism?” Roy asked, making another grab for the documents, but Hawkeye turned her back on him to keep the folder away. In short order he’d have to stand from his chair and catch the dear Lieutenant, wrap her up in his arms and snatch the folder from her fingers. He didn’t think she’d like Halifax seeing that, but Roy wouldn’t mind doing it, truth be told.

“I’m almost loathe to say in front of you, General,” Halifax demurred, “you see, the matter is of a delicate nature.”

Roy scoffed. “I’m a big boy, I think I can handle it,” he insisted. Halifax grimaced theatrically.

“You misunderstand, General Mustang... my concern isn’t that you would be scandalized. I worry a notorious philanderer like you mightn’t take the situation seriously enough, if you learned two of your subordinates were found /in flagrante delicto/, intoxicated in uniform, with a certain lady of the evening, who was also in possession of a number of incriminating photographs of said personnel, which, it has been alleged, she was leveraging for blackmail.” Halifax pretended to inspect his fingernails. “Those photographs, unfortunately, are included in the dossier, and I didn’t want to be responsible for any reaction you might’ve had to them, sir. As such, I elected to pass them instead to Lieutenant Hawkeye, who is well known for her even temper and cool head.” Finally, he looked up at Roy, his expression teasing. “Furthermore I didn’t want to create upset if the lady in question turned out to be a friend of yours.”

Roy wouldn’t allow this from most people, but it made Hawkeye snort into her hand and so he let it go. He watched Hawkeye rifle through the pages of the report, until she apparently found the aforementioned photos. 

“Oh no,” she said, and it wasn’t the joking tone she’d been using. Roy sat up straighter. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, anticipating worse news than just some NCOs caught up in a bit of hanky-panky. 

Hawkeye tapped the hidden photo with her fingernail three times. “Perhaps I’ll show it to you... on /Christmas/, as a gift.”

Roy felt his eyes widen. Surely Chris knew better than to let uniformed officers get drunk and rowdy on her premises?! And who in her employ would take blackmail photos of State Military personnel? He drummed his pen twice on his desk. This wasn’t like the information trading he used to deal in. Perhaps someone had grown dissatisfied now that Roy himself wasn’t slipping her money under the table for secrets anymore, and had decided to take matters into her own hands to supplement her income? This was going to become a very /personal/ headache, he could already tell.

“Honestly I’d never seen such a device before,” Halifax said, interrupting Roy’s frustrated train of thought. 

“Device?” Roy asked, and Hawkeye shrugged slightly. 

“The involved lady is wearing a garment composed of a number of straps and a simplified phallus, allowing her, I presume, to perform certain penetrative sex acts.” She flipped through the photos again. “Such acts are depicted herein, along with photographic evidence of military officers, one a sergeant and one a corporal, engaged in amorous conduct with one another.”

“Right,” Halifax replied. “Imagine if these photos got out. I’d warrant that /garment/, such as it is, would cause a scandal all on its own.”

“Or a new fashion trend,” Roy quipped, slipping into old habits. 

This time, Halifax laughed. “I’ve nothing /gentlemanly/ to say about that,” he said, grinning devilishly, “so I’ll leave that dossier with you for now. We’re recommending putting the implicated officers on administrative leave while this mess is cleaned up, with your authorization. Additionally, the police have brought the working girl in on charges of blackmail, and have questioned her employer, who denies any knowledge of an extortion plot. Indeed she claims her shiny new establishment is a /hostess club/, not a brothel, and that the girl was terminated some weeks ago for unrelated reasons. We are to assume therefore that the lady’s actions were, shall we say, extracurricular... unless you think we ought to investigate further, to see if these aren’t the only personnel who’ve been caught up in this?”

Roy sighed. Hawkeye surreptitiously turned the folder towards him so he could see the face of the blackmailer. Thank god— though the room was intimately familiar, the young woman in the photo wasn’t anyone he recognized, which meant she couldn’t spill any details about Roy’s special information gathering techniques. 

“I doubt that will be necessary. My money says she’ll sing like a canary if she thinks it’ll get her clemency.” He leaned on his hand, his posture relaxing once more. “I wouldn’t bet this will go very far. If she was trying to blackmail small fry like sergeants and corporals, it’s unlikely she had anyone else on the hook. Make sure the police seize any photo negatives in her possession, though.” 

“Right you are,” Halifax agreed, standing from his chair. “On that note, don’t go losing that folder. We’re trying to keep a lid on those photos, obviously.” At the door, he saluted lazily, but couldn’t resist adding, “And try not to let them give you any /weird ideas/,” before he ducked out of the office. 

“Weird ideas,” Hawkeye echoed, dropping the folder on Roy’s desk. “Whatever could he have meant by that, Brigadier General?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, First Lieutenant.”

—————

Riza arrived at Roy’s apartment about an hour after sundown. She’d called saying she’d head over as soon as she was finished feeding and walking her dog, and Roy had been content to wait for her, bathing and shaving and dressing down to slacks and shirtsleeves. 

He always loved her off-duty looks. Granted, the uniform did it for him too— the severe hairstyle, the clean lines of the coat... reminded him of her strength and tenacity. But, the soft, corded turtleneck and long, a-line skirt highlighted the difference, and he let his fingers wind into her hair as soon as the door closed behind her. It was getting longer, he noticed. He wondered if she’d cut it. He liked it short, but also liked how it fell over the rise of her breasts when she wore it long like this. He liked just about everything about her. 

“I know we were warned about this, but that dossier gave me some /weird ideas/ of my own,” she said, her face buried in his neck. Her nose was cold from being outside. His heart rate picked up. “You looked at those photos... I think ours is nicer, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Roy answered, pressing kisses to the top of her head. He let her push him into the bedroom, fell backwards on the bed at her urging. 

“Unlike most people, I suppose you can always make whatever shape you want with alchemy. Any time you want to change it up, you can,” she commented, her hands working down the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons with practiced ease. 

He hadn’t done much of that. He could, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t felt the need. Riza’s technique had been more than enough, whenever they’d done it this way, but maybe /she’d/ like more variety. He’d have to ask... later, when she wasn’t unhooking her shoulder holster and pulling her clingy top off, dropping it to the side, and turning around, wordlessly instructing him to get the zipper on her skirt for her. She could easily do it herself, but he relished the opportunity to lay his hands on her hips, to kiss over the knobs of her spine, over intermingled patches of scar and lines of tattoo. His fingers found the tiny zipper pull as he was nibbling her shoulder gently, and then the skirt puddled on the ground, leaving her in her bra, panties, and stockings. That was also a good look on her. He’d never known her to wear a girdle or garter belt, but he briefly entertained a thought of what that would look like, before putting that image aside for later. He shrugged out of his sleeves and undershirt while she rummaged in the bedside table, anticipation building. 

He had made the toy himself, based upon what he’d thought they’d both like, and just the sight of it excited him. It was shiny and black, with a bulb that fit inside her and a long knobby shaft that felt incredible pushing in and out of him. He was stiffening in his pants before she’d even taken off her underwear, and of course, her sharp eyes zeroed in on that immediately. 

“Tsk,” she chided, and then she reached down and flicked the head of his hard cock through his trousers. Roy yelped, and then moaned quietly, spreading his legs as if anticipating another hit. Riza only shook her head at him. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, and then she was pushing her underwear down and kicking them away. Despite her chastisement, he allowed himself to stare. She let him, as she pulled the straps up her legs and fitted the bulb inside herself with a soft sigh. He loved the way she looked, tightening the straps o her hips, standing with her feet spread to make room. It made her look powerful. Dangerous. 

Which she was.

She found their little jar of lubricant in the drawer, and slapped his thigh to get his attention. He must have been gazing moony-eyed at her, if the amusement in her face was anything to go by. 

“Can you take off your trousers for me? But do it slowly,” she commanded, warming a dollop of petroleum jelly between her fingers, spreading it down the shaft of the dildo in a way that made his cock twitch sympathetically. “Surely someone must have taught you how to do a strip tease.”

Roy wanted to protest these assumptions about his upbringing, but stood anyway, turning his back on her and flexing subtly, bending over the bed and arching his spine to show the way his off-duty slacks clung to his ass and thighs. Kneeling on the bed, he slid his hands down over his hips to grip his own ass, knead and pull it. He’d feel silly doing this if he didn’t know she liked this view of him. She’d said so often enough when she took him from behind, praising his musculature, the firm, round shape of his ass, the way it moved when she slammed her hips against it. They didn’t always fuck like this, but they did like it. Distantly, he felt a little bad for Captain Halifax, who’d never even /seen/ a toy like this, much less experienced the pleasure one could achieve from it. But then, Riza’s fingertips brushed from the small of his back over the curve of his ass, before she drew back and laid a sharp slap across his left cheek, through the fabric of his trousers. He hissed in a breath, and let it out on a low groan. 

“You were spacing out on me,” Riza accused mildly, her fingers hooking info the waistband of his trousers. She slid them back and forth, teasing, and then pushed forward, draping her body over his back and gently cupping his cock through his pants. “I can’t believe you’d get distracted when /this/ is clearly begging for attention.”

“Mm,” Roy murmured, thrusting clumsily against her palm, “just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Riza made a disgruntled noise, embarrassed, and squeezed his cock harder. 

“Where’s my fiery General?” she teased, stroking him through the fabric. It was hot and close, the layers making him sweat, and he grit his teeth against a needy whine. 

“Yours to command,” he rasped. He tried to make it sound like a joke but wasn’t sure how successful he was. 

“Well. Take off your belt, then,” she shot back, and he fumbled one-handed with the buckle, pulling the leather free of its loops in impatient yanks. Riza went for the button of his fly herself, forced the zipper down while pressing the heel of her hand into his stiff cock, still separated from her touch by the thin layer of his underwear. He shuddered. With her so close, he could feel the strap-on nudging between his thighs. God, but he wanted it inside him, wanted to feel the slap of her hips against his ass, wanted to hear her soft groans as the polycarbon dildo shifted inside her and rubbed her clit whenever she ground it deep. He arched into her, offering himself up. Her teeth found the curve of his shoulder and Roy found himself seconds from begging. 

With an almost painful tug, Riza wrenched Roy’s pants and underwear down to his knees. 

“You look like a naughty schoolboy like this, awaiting castigation,” Riza commented, spanking his ass a few more times. They were playful swats, though, not the harsh, stinging slaps of which he knew she was capable. These were just for the fun of watching his ass jiggle a little, watching the skin start to turn blushy pink. He knew this, knew her well enough that he didn’t have to look at her to know there’d be a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“I’ll tell you, the first time I was spanked /wasn’t/ by any school marm,” Roy replied cheekily. “Though I did get told I’d been a bad, bad boy.”

Riza gave him a harsher smack, for that. “I’ll bet you were,” she said. Roy’s cock leaked, needy and wet. He heard Riza going for the petroleum jelly again, and spread his knees as much as his bunched trousers would allow. 

The dildo he’d made for them wasn’t the thickest in the world— enough to give him a stretch, but not so much so as to impede his ability to sit at his desk the following day. He liked it to go in easy, stimulating his rim with all the bumps and ridges he’d made for it. He could probably take it without much prior preparation. Still, Riza seemed to like fingering him open, watching him jolt and moan at the press of her dexterous fingers into his hole. Sometimes he imagined he could feel the calluses from her handgun, and that thought made his blood run hot. 

“Ah, /Riza/,” he forced out as she slipped two fingers into him, setting up a slow, steady pace that had him clawing the duvet and biting his pillow. It wasn’t /enough/, but it was good, feeling her heat, the press of her speedy trigger finger against his prostate, massaging it and making him want to either scream or sob. She knew /exactly/ what she was doing, knew his body completely. She could absolutely drill his prostate if she wanted, could rub it with her fingers until he came dry from that alone, and some times, she did exactly that, working him up until he was effectively useless, begging into the duvet with slurred, desperate pleas. His cock dripped and he shuddered, and two fingers became three. 

“You’re very fetching on your knees, General,” she intoned.

She /was/ in a mood, he thought, smiling to himself. He pushed his hips back into her fingers, groaned into his mouthful of bedding.

“I know you could come like this, before I’m even inside you... the question is whether I’ll let you be that selfish tonight. What do you think, Brigadier General? Are you going to make your personal adjutant do all the work again?” She pinched his ass with her free hand, and he grunted. 

“Of course not,” he forced out. “Why don’t you get a little closer, and we’ll see what I can do for you.”

That was all the impetus she needed to pull out her fingers and start rubbing the smooth tip of the toy against his rim. 

“Ahh, /Riza/,” Roy murmured, hips juddering, as if he could force himself back onto the toy. She wouldn’t let him, though, her hand landing on one of his hips in a silent order to keep still. 

“Patience,” Riza breathed, and then she tapped him on his side, his cue to breathe out so it was easier on him when she pushed in oh-so-slowly. Each bump in the toy thudded against his rim, and he didn’t even know what kinds of noises he was making then. His fingers bunched the duvet and she had to remind him to breathe once she was in to the hilt and he could feel the warmth of her skin against his ass. She ground the dildo inside of him, teasing herself with the base where it would rub against her clit, and the shift of the bulb inside her. 

“Feels good,” she said, voice strained. “/Roy/,” she gasped, snapping her hips almost reflexively. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “Feels pretty damn good for me too.” That was an understatement, honestly. Every time she moved even a little bit, it changed the stimulation, and he ached to touch his cock. “Let me turn over. I want to watch your face.”

She had to pull out so he could roll over and kick his trousers off, but then he was spreading his knees, welcoming her between them easily. Their eyes met, and he reached for her, tilting his chin up as she pushed back inside, waited for a kiss. 

She bent to give it to him, pressed her lips sweetly to his even as her hips started a slow but brutal roll, each thrust in sharp and powerful. He moaned against her lips. 

“You’re so perfect, Riza,” he mumbled, not willing to stop kissing even to speak. The toy hit him deep, and he knew it was working for her, too, as she started biting his lips amid kisses. She always wanted to nibble on him when she was feeling good, and it made his cock leak a fat drip onto his belly... not just because the feel of her teeth digging into his lip hurt just right, but because... Riza Hawkeye was usually so controlled, so cool-headed. That she wanted to bite like an animal whenever her clit was rubbed was a shocking revelation, one that he treasured, one that turned him on every time. One of his hands drifted down to his hip, touched hers where it held him steady. He broke away from the kiss, let his head fall back on the bed, let himself be rocked by her bruising thrusts, her demanding grind.

“Can I touch myself?” he asked, when he couldn’t take it anymore, when his lower belly was so wet with precome it was slick and shiny. 

Riza met his eyes again, seemed to forget herself simply looking at him. He understood how she was feeling; flushed with her hair wild and loose, glistening with sweat, tight abdomen flexing as she continued to pound into him, she looked like a Valkyrie, or some avenging goddess off the walls of a Xerxes temple. How had he ever gotten so lucky?

“Yes,” she finally answered, “let me watch you. Let me see.”

He wrapped his fist around his cock and began moving it in time with her thrusts. Before long though, it wasn’t enough, and he had to speed his hand. He was arching into it, forcing himself down harder on the dildo, rocking the toy back into Riza’s body as she forced it into him, and the slick sound of his hand as he lost control of himself grew louder and louder. 

“Fuck, Riza, I’m going to come. You’re so good to me, so good,” he rasped, pulling his cock harshly. Her hips slammed against his, a low sound building in her throat. She bit her lips, her fingers clawing his hips as she watched him, eyes drinking in the sight of him. He knew how he must look: witless, needy, arching and writhing between her toy and his hand. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he gasped, taking in the intent look in her eyes. 

“You look good when you’re about to come,” she replied hoarsely. “Are you going to spend all over your belly for me? Show me how good I’m making you feel?”

One of her hands left his hip to curl around his fist on his cock and give it a squeeze, and he startled, and came with a shout, his knees shaking, his back bowing. She kept her hand on him, forcing him to keep stroking himself, even as he tipped into overstimulation, milking shot after shot of come onto his quivering stomach. 

“Riza! /Riza!/“ he barked, insensate, as she tightened her fist, made it almost hurt even as come continued to drool out of him. For a moment he thought he might pass out, but she let him go, and drew out of him slowly, carefully pulling the toy out of herself and pushing the straps down her legs. She’d just climbed onto the bed when he rolled over, catching her around the waist and pinning her under him. His body was still thrumming with the aftershocks of his orgasm, and his stomach was still wet with come, but he didn’t care, not when he pushed her thighs wide and found her so, so slick. “Riza...” he whispered, and then he was licking into her, moaning as her wetness spread down his chin, up his cheeks. She’d given him her best, pounding into him so he’d feel every inch, every ridge of their toy, so she’d hit his prostate over and over, so he’d feel full and stretched and sated. She was everything to him, in his past, and at work, and in his bed. She deserved the very best he had to give, so he massaged her with his tongue, lapped into her pussy, licked up her wetness and hummed hungrily around her clit. He loved the taste of her, and loved the way her hips lifted off the bed, pressing harder into his mouth.

“Ahh-oh! /Roy!/“ she yelped, one hand burying in his hair, pushing his long bangs off of his forehead and gathering them into a desperate fist. “Yes, right there, /right there!/“ 

He swirled his tongue, moans rumbling into her. Her thighs squeezed his head and her fist tightened painfully in his hair, but he didn’t care, only sucked her clit harder, stroked her thighs, her hips, up to her nipples to thumb at them gently, then back down again. 

“Roy...” Her voice was shaking. “Damn it, you’re so good with your tongue!”

“Mmmm...” he groaned heartily, fingers gripping her ass, hauling her closer. He wouldn’t dream of pulling his mouth away to say anything more than that. 

“Close,” she warned. “Gonna come... oh—! God, Roy!” 

Her other hand clawed into his shoulder as she came, hips bucking hard against his face, her voice rising in a crescendo as she ground her pussy against his tongue. 

“Roy! Coming, coming so hard!” Riza cried, curling around his head. He couldn’t breathe but it didn’t matter— he held his breath and continued to lick at her as much as he could, as she shook and shouted. “Nnn, GOD!” she grit out, and then she was pushing him away and flopping back into the pillows. Roy wiped his face on the duvet cover. It would need to be washed anyway. When he crawled up the bed to lie next to her, she was still panting, her arm flung over her eyes. He petted her hip fondly. 

“I could do that every day, you know. Remember when I said if I was Führer I’d change the women’s uniform to adopt a miniskirt?” He smoothed a hand down her thigh to the top of her stocking, wiggled a finger under the elastic and snapped it a little. Riza frowned lightly.

“I remember,” she said flatly. 

“Well, just think... your uniform jacket over a cute little skirt... these stockings leaving just a couple inches of your gorgeous thighs bare...” He traced a meaningless pattern from her hip to the top of one stocking. “I could perch you on my desk, push your skirt up, and lick you out for breakfast, lunch, and tea. Wouldn’t that be worth it?” 

Riza grimaced, but he felt the way she shivered. She pulled her arm away from her face and gave him a look. 

“It would keep you awake at your desk at least, General,” she teased. 

He wrapped her up in his arms, and pretended to snore.

**Author's Note:**

> Folks I am rewatching Brotherhood and I just watched Beyond the Inferno and it STILL MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL UGGHHH... 
> 
> Also also let me tell ya I was really excited when I came up with the title for this fic bc I’d been puzzling over it for a while and then I was like OHHHH it’s a role reversal joke AND an alchemical philosophy...! I was so pleased.


End file.
